


There Will Be No New King of Hell

by Keywiz13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Gen, Season 14 Coda, season 14
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keywiz13/pseuds/Keywiz13
Summary: “Look, can you just sign these off? Things need to be processed and taken care of and you’re the only one who can technically do that right now.”Sam felt like he was suddenly thrust into a surreal dream as the tablet was handed to him with a document displayed. Words like ‘crossroad demon deals’ and ‘torture efficiency’ swam into his vision and Sam blinked his eyes, trying to handle the wave of nausea that hit him.“I’m...I’m not the King of Hell.”The demon tilted his head, the nervousness in his stature waned off into dry humor, “Mmm, you kinda are.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a short coda for 14x01, but then I took forever with it, so now the ending works with 14x03. Please enjoy my very self-indulgent Sam King of Hell fic.

It happened the day after.

Sam was in the kitchen downing coffee, hoping to cure the effects of having barely 2 hours of sleep that weren’t riddled with nightmares. He had made sure to wait walking in until George was done making breakfast for everyone, until the kitchen was empty and he could walk in without peering eyes and well-meaning looks of care that, to Sam, just look like pity. He didn’t quite catch an empty kitchen, but Cas was hardly someone who ‘bothered’ Sam. Cas stood by the stove, attempting to make breakfast for Jack, who had purposefully missed his morning exercise and hadn’t left his room, although when Bobby walked in and mentioned it to Sam, he chuckled and said he didn’t blame the kid for wanting to sleep in.

“That’s awfully lenient of you.” Sam said, letting out a dry laugh, “you used to whoop Dean’s butt for sleeping in.”

Sam blamed his exhaustion when a millisecond later, he realized his mistake. Bobby gave him a strange look - a mixture of confusion and pity. Sam shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “I-I mean... that’s not what I... I’m sorry Bobby.” Bobby gave him a soft smile, but it was still an unfamiliar one.

“It’s alright Sam,” he said simply. He patted his shoulder, and walked out of the kitchen with a hot cup of tea. Sam sighed. His Bobby didn’t drink tea, his drank coffee.

His Bobby was dead.

Cas, who was silent throughout their interaction, shifted some cooked eggs and bacon onto two plates. He promptly handed one to Sam without a word and headed to the exit.

“Oh Cas, you didn’t I have to- I'm not even hungry-” Sam stammered after him. Cas turned around and silenced him with a look.

“Eat, Sam” he said firmly.

“You need it” he then said more softly.

Sam stared at Cas as he walked off to Jack’s room with his breakfast. Shaking his head, he tried a few bites. Thankfully, Cas had gotten better at cooking. Either that, or Sam’s exhaustion had affected his taste buds. He finished his meal, and after washing his plate, headed to the war room, ready to deal with the day. There was still the situation with the vampires on the highway, and it seemed while Sam and the others had been gone saving Cas and laying down the law on who gets to rule Hell, a number of cases had come up overnight. A list of things to check off was waiting on him along with a daily check in on Lu-Nick. Just Nick. He hoped Jack was doing okay and despite Cas taking care of him, Sam knew he wouldn’t feel right unless he personally checked in on the boy. He also probably had to call that _(bastard)_ Ketch who was still their only lead on getting Dean back alive-

“Uh, Chief? There’s somebody here.”

Sam looked up from his train of thought to realize he had made it to the front of the bunker and a handful of people were standing up posing guns at the front door. Sam blinked at the sight and felt his adrenaline spike. He looked around and realized a brown-haired woman had been talking to him. Jenell? Jayleen? God, he needed to start learning everyone’s names.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Everyone was muttering worriedly to each other. Sam noticed at the bottom of the steps his mother and Bobby in a heated discussion with some of the other-world survivors.

“I think there’s a monster trying to get in.” the woman said.

“What?” Sam hissed. He ran past the woman up to his mother, who turned around to see him, her eyes filled with confusion and a hint of fear.

“Mom, what’s happening?”

She stared at him, seemingly unable to find the words. Bobby talked for her, “There’s a demon at the door and he won’t friggin leave.”

One of the other survivors, Sarai, was furiously shaking her head, “We need to open the door and blast him to hell.”

“He can’t get into the bunker” Bobby bit back, “the best thing to do is to just wait until it leaves.”

“What if it never leaves!” someone else said.

Sam sighed, already feeling the energy from Cas’s eggs and bacon leave his body.

“Do we know what it wants?” he asked.

All arguments stopped. They all grew silent and stared at him, and Sam felt a knot of worry grow in his gut.

“Well...Jackson here is the one who had opened the door to get some fresh air when...well” Bobby started, looking over at a withered looking man who looked like surviving the other world took all the light out of his eyes and he was just trying to live.

“It was standing right at the front of the door and said - I need to speak with Sam Winchester please” Jackson said, shaking his head at the fact that the demon said _please_.

Mary finally found her voice, “You are not going out there.” Her eyes were lit up with determination and Sam stared at them, knowing he was going to have to fight through her to do something he knew needed to be done.

“I did tell them they would have to go through me” Sam said with a dark laugh that held no humor. Mary was already shaking her head.

“No no no. They can sit out there and cry about wanting to be King of Hell, or whatever, but you are staying here.”

“Mom-”

“NO”

“Mary-”

Mary whipped around towards Bobby before he could finish, “Back me up on this Bobby!”

“The demons did seem afraid of Sam, maybe-”

“I don’t care!”

The others begin arguing again, “We need to just open the door real quick and kill it!”

Sam shook his head against the growing voices, and despite the fact that he knew he was going up against a trap, he silently walked past all of them and up the stairs. A few people looked like they wanted to stop him, but couldn’t seem to make a move against his sudden stride. Sam knew he wasn’t entirely being smart about this; all he had on him was Ruby’s knife, and going outside was more than likely a trap, but a mixture of exhaustion and a tint of anger propelled Sam to head to the entrance.

Mary turned around from arguing with Bobby, who looked mostly confused and tired, and quickly realized Sam had walked past them and was about to open the door.

“SAM!” Mary called after him, full of desperation, but Sam already had opened the door and promptly closed it behind him, pressing the right buttons on the side to properly seal the bunker from anything dangerous coming in... or anyone desperately trying to get out.

“Oh, thank Satan.”

The demon looked like he was on the verge of having a breakdown. Sam stared at the suited man in front of him, who looked like he had been pacing, and noticed a bead of sweat roll down his head. His vessel, a young skittish looking man, let out a sigh of relief and walked closer to Sam. Immediately, Sam whipped out Ruby’s knife, stopping the demon in his tracks.

“How did you know about this place?”

The demon held his hands out in surrender, eyeing nervously the knife in Sam’s hand.

“I-I used to work for Crowley...”

Sam tightened his grip and made a threatening step forward, “So why are you here?”

“I-I just...Well, Hell is.... Hell is a goddamn _mess_ and Kip’s followers told us-”

“You want to be King of Hell?” Disbelief lined Sam’s question. The demon, _the boy_ , in front of him hardly looked like he could lead the underworld. He hardly looked like he was holding it together just to have come here to the bunker.

“What? Hell no. I’m here for you.”

Sam froze, not liking where the conversation was going.

“Why?”

The demon did a double take, as if he missed a step and was trying to piece together what led him here.

“Kip’s followers said-”

“I told those demons that if anyone wanted to become King of Hell, they would have to go through me.”

“Right. I know. So...”

Sam raised his eyebrow, “Sooo...”

The demon shook his head and sighed. He then raised his hand, and Sam braced himself for the common demon-throwing-things-with-their-mind attack that they could never block themselves against.

Instead of flying through the air, though, a touchpad tablet appeared out of thin air and landed in the demon’s hand.

“Look, can you just sign these off? Things need to be processed and taken care of and you’re the only one who can technically do that right now.”

Sam felt like he was suddenly thrust into a surreal dream as the tablet was handed to him with a document displayed. Words like ‘crossroad demon deals’ and ‘torture efficiency’ swam into his vision and Sam blinked his eyes, trying to handle the wave of nausea that hit him.

“I’m...I’m not the King of Hell.”

The demon tilted his head, the nervousness in his stature waned off into dry humor, “Mmm, you kinda are.”

“This isn’t what I meant when I said-”

“I understand. But if any contender to the throne has to go up against you, then according to Hell law-”

“Hell law-?”

“-that means you’re the head of things.”

Sam stared at the demon in silence, uncertain as to why he didn’t just throw down the tablet and gank the demon in front of him.

His conversation with Cas last night echoed in his mind; _‘If it means saving Dean, I’d work with...’_

_Anything._

Sam had no idea what the state of hell was, or if it was better to let it fall into chaos or not, but if being head honcho meant having more.... man power. More wandering eyes. More chances of seeing Dean...

Sam tried to keep his voice calm as he asked, “How many demons, other than you, is okay with this...whole thing?”

The demon let out a humorless laugh, “I’m not sure ‘okay’ is the right word, but...I think right now, most of us just need...structure.”

Sam took a deep breath and tried calming his frayed nerves. He shouldn’t agree to this. He shouldn’t still be talking to the demon. He was leading a bunker full of apocalypse surviving people from another universe, he couldn’t possibly even have time for this. But if he said yes, if he became this...figure of authority...maybe they might just make it work. Maybe they would be closer to finding Dean. Besides, wouldn’t it be nice not having to deal with one more species of monster? If most of the angels were gone, and those left were probably unwilling to help, forcing their counterparts to assist would just have to do.

Sam looked back up at the demon, the anxious mess of a demon who looked like he could barely hold himself up, and felt an unwelcome dark sense of pride at the fact that it couldn’t look into his eyes. He shook the feeling away and stated, “I’m not leaving the bunker.”

The demon released all the tension in its shoulders and hurriedly said, “You wouldn’t have to! I mean, usually, the King has to either rule from Hell or from one of our headquarters here on Earth, but honestly, you don’t have to be there to sign for things and pass laws. Right now, at least, weekly meetings would be fine.”

Sam nodded slowly, not looking forward to amount of work he was somehow about to sign up for. Crowley was always grouchy for a reason.

“No demons in the bunker.”

“Right.”

“And I can always call off these meetings if something more important comes up.”

“Sure.”

Sam scratches at his head, trying to ignore the amount of stress that was building up, “And I don’t want any hunters knowing about this.”

The demon hesitated on that one, “Umm well....”

Sam stared at him and the demon gave a small shrug, “Demons like to talk.”

Sam made to reply, but the demon talked over him, “I mean, I can set that as a rule, but I’m just saying...Samuel Winchester being King of Hell now would be something my kind would like to brag about. We could punish whoever lets the cat of the bag, but I’m just saying, the cat’s probably...most likely going to get out of the bag.”

That would be bad. Sam couldn’t imagine anyone in the bunker following his leadership if word got out of his....position. If anyone in the hunter community found out about it, he’d lose every connection he had with them. It could affect his search for Dean.

Still, there were a lot of demons. Demons could be his eyes for...everywhere - all over the world.

Sam sighed, “Fine, but I’m killing whoever lets it out though.”

The demon smiled, feeling peace at finally having a King to serve.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

\-----

Sam walked back into the bunker after nearly 2 hours.

Mary, Bobby, and Cas had been trying to open the door, but a series of activated spells made it sealed tight. Cas had tried to punch his way through it, mostly out of anger and frustration, but the angel warding was strong, and his grace, for some unknown reason, kept getting weaker every day.

Mary ran at Sam and looked unsure if she wanted to hug him or slap him. She hugged him, but said with gritted teeth in fury, _“What the hell were you thinking?”_

Bobby interrupted Sam from answering, “Is he dead? The demon?”

Cas wouldn’t let him answer either, “Sam, that was monumentally stupid.”

Jack walked up from behind them and gave Sam a wide-eyed stare, “Are you okay?”

Sam took a deep breath as his mother let go of him and tried to figure out the words to best explain what just happened.

“The demon is gone.” He finally said.

A series of questions came from down below on the ground floor of the war room.

“Did you kill it?”

“Are there more demons coming?”

“Do we need to prepare for a fight?”

“Are we safe?”

It was all too much. Sam froze, unwilling to reveal that he just made himself King of Hell to a bunch of people who spent most of their lives running away from monsters.

Cas caught his deer in the headlights stare and his emotions shifted from frustration to understanding. “We should talk in private.”

Sam nodded, feeling an immense sense of gratitude to the angel.

Cas looked at Jack and said, “Jack, why don’t you see if you could get George to prepare everyone lunch. Help him out.”

“It’s hardly 11:00. And what about Sam-?”

Sam found his voice, suddenly aware of what Cas was trying to do.

“I’m completely fine, Jack. I’ll let you know more about the demon later.” He croaked out, feeling like he was doing a poor job of passing off as fine.

Jack stayed put, looking unconvinced.

Mary pitched in, “Jack, it would help us out a lot if we could keep everyone in here calm. Food tends to do that.”

At the mention of being useful, Jack’s reluctance fell away. He nodded slowly and went down the stairs to find their unofficial head cook.

Cas led Sam down the stairs and, reminding everyone with a look that he wasn’t human and they needed to shut up, silently pushed through the crowd with Sam’s forearm in his grip. Sam could distinctly hear Mary’s footsteps beside them and Bobby making strong reassurances to the people behind them that they were safe and everything had been taken care of. The lowering grumble of voices however indicated that nobody really believed him.

Cas led them all to a secluded spot in the library and gently let go of Sam’s arm so he could sit down on one of the armchairs.

Cas waited until Bobby and Mary were both sitting down, but remained standing up as he asked, “Sam, what happened?”

Sam steeled himself, his fingernails digging into the palm of his right hand. He counted to 10 to pull himself together, and then proceeded to tell them everything.

\--------

_A few weeks later._

 

“Hello, your majesty.”

“Hey, what did I say about calling me that?”

“Yes yes, of course my lord.”

“Okay, that’s even worse. I thought I ‘decreed’ that everybody just needed to call me Sam.”

“Sorry.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and led out a deep breath. The crisp cool air of Fall made him shuffle on his feet for warmth, but the demon in front of him simply stood there with a grin that clearly showed she was having too much of a good time. This time, the demon he was meeting was (possessing) a young lady with long dark brown hair. He always ended up meeting with different demons at each meeting, making it hard to keep it a consistent structure. They all had a twinge of fear in their expression however, and that’s all Sam could really ask for.

“Listen, before we get started, I need to make a command.”

“Of course. What do you need?”

Sam sighed, thinking about his newly-found brother losing his mind inside the bunker, afraid of the psychological mark left on him by Michael. After their trip to Sioux Falls, and Dean’s confession to all the guilt he felt for saying ‘Yes’, he had grown eerily quiet the rest of the night. He barely said goodnight to his mother and Bobby, who had just made it home a few hours before them, and gave Cas a mere glance before high-tailing it to his room. Cas had looked upset about Dean’s coldness, but he quickly covered it up when he told Sam that, thanks to Jack’s quick thinking, the girl had been saved from the witch’s curse. The amount of pride on Cas’s face overshadowed any pain Dean had left, and Sam had felt pride in Jack as well. It was good to hear somebody had gotten a win. However, it was that time of the week, and despite the exhaustion aching through his bones, he had one more task to do. Cas gave Sam an empathic nod when he looked at his watch, feeling immensely grateful that Dean had gone to bed when he did. He had no idea when he was going to tell him.

Mary and Bobby had both given him a look when he told them about needing to go to his weekly meeting. (He had tried to make it monthly, but Hell was a _mess_ ). They both weren’t okay with his situation, but thankfully they had come to understand it. Mary more so than Bobby. Cas most of all. They never quite told Jack.

Besides, it was kind of nice having demons hunt monsters for you, at least all the ones they couldn’t get to, and Sam had gotten to make some welcome changes to Hell, such as, not allowing demons to make crossroads deals with minors, and making sure the level of torture was based off how evil a soul really was - that they deserved it. (No one really deserved torture, but Sam had to tell himself some souls did to let him sleep at night).

Everything was going to be fine.

“Well, it’s more of a change in a previous command.”

“Sir?”

“Michael is gone from Dean. If he’s possessing someone, that person’s not his true vessel. He would be weak. I have no idea where he is or why he left my brother willingly, but if you get a whiff of him, notify me immediately.”

Thank God Crowley introduced the use of cell-phones in Hell.

“Right, but what’s the...change?”

“Before, I wanted him to be captured alive, but now...”

The demon smiled again, a twisted grin that marred the possessed woman’s rose-cheeked face.

“Sure thing.”

Before, Sam knew the demons wouldn’t stand a chance against Michael, and was mostly just using them as more eyes. Now that Michael didn’t have his sword though…

Their meeting then went the usual way; signing off on changing torture rates, organizing certain souls into varying categories of Hell, reporting of statistics on the number of demons being made (Sam was trying his hardest to lower that number). The demon was smiling the whole way, as if it couldn’t wait to tell him something.

They finished their last piece of business when the demon vanished her tablet, took a step back from him, put her hands behind her back, and rocked on the balls of her feet, excitement pouring out of her.

“One more thing,” she said.

Sam felt a deep worry tug on his gut at the demon’s stature.

“Okay?”

The demon then made a motion with her hands and four people appeared between them. Sam instantly put his hand on Ruby’s knife in his jacket pocket, his fear spiking at the sudden change.

Of the four people in front of him, one female and three males, the two men standing in the middle were suddenly brought to their knees by an unknown force. The woman and man on the sides smiled, their eyes turning inky black. The demon lady he was talking to sauntered to the space behind the two kneeling men, both who were shaking in terror.

“The cat got out of the bag,” she said with glee.

Sam felt all the air leave his body. He closed his eyes for a moment at the sight before him. He opened them and took a look at the men kneeling. Both of them were clearly afraid, but one of them was shaking with anger. A closer look at him and Sam realized he knew him.

“Jackson?”

He spat at Sam’s feet, the crow's feet of his eyes creased into darker lines, “I knew Bobby was lying about that demon being dead.”

Sam had no idea how to respond, anxiety gripping him and keeping him frozen. Not able to speak, he turned to the other man on the ground, whose fear was turning into hysterical laughs at Jackson’s words. A demon.

A spike of anger suddenly emerged as Sam realized what had happened.

“I thought I was clear about not interfering with hunters.” Sam finally said, his voice getting sharper with anger.

The demon kneeling down continued to laugh some more, prompting the demon standing next to him to slap him hard enough to knock him to the ground. Jackson flinched at the motion and Sam realized he was beginning to shake, both from anger, but also from the spiraling situation.

“I thought I was clear that my position wasn’t to be told to anyone.” Sam was nearly yelling. He didn’t need this. His brother was finally home and things were supposed to be in control now. If word got out that he was King of Hell, Sam would lose control of everything. Lose control of everyone in the bunker, lose control of the hunter community, lose control of his life. .

The demon stopped laughing and pushed himself up back on his knees, blood pouring from his nose, “Your hunter was getting in my way. It was either kill him, or...throw him off.”

The demon spat out a glob of blood building up from his now-broken nose, “I probably should’ve just killed him, but” the demon grinned madly, “I think the look on this human’s face made it worth it.”

The cold seized his bones and ice clutched at his throat as Sam sneered out, “Worth your life?”

The demon looked into his eyes and said mockingly, “A king should be proud of his title. What kind of king rules from a hole in the ground?”

Sam whipped Ruby’s knife out and struck him down. Electricity crackled through its body, and went out like a flame. His body crashed to the ground. Sam tried not to think of the man it had been possessing.

The demon lady he had been talking to spoke up, “We made sure no other hunter heard this traitor’s words, my lord.”

Sam flinched at being addressed as such. The realization of needing to deal with Jackson, sweet, old soul Jackson was starting to sink in and he looked back at his eyes to see nothing but disgust on his face.

“Jackson...how...where did this happen?”

He didn’t answer, the look of revulsion on his face deepened. One of the other demons answered, “We came across them on our search for Michael. They were killing a pack of super-werewolves and we were going to leave them alone when, Rhett, here,” he pointed to the dead body on the ground, “wanted in on the fun.”

Sam sighed and tried to give Jackson his most sympathetic look.

“Jackson, you need to understand. Keeping Hell in line...it’s important. Bobby, Cas and my mother know, but you can’t tell anyone else. We need the Hunter community. Michael is still out there. We need as many people as we can get when it comes to going against him. Jackson, listen, please, this is important-”

“No wonder Lucifer brought you back to life.”

Sam stilled at the man’s words, his rambling cut short. The cold air of the night was pulling at him again, and he felt himself lean away from the man.

A moment passed, and he looked up to the demon he had been speaking to, “Where do the others think Jackson is?”

“They think he’s dead. I’m surprised they haven’t made contact with you yet.”

Sam stood still. Very still. The darkness of the night shrouded them like a suffocating blanket. It was time to make a decision.

“His soul goes to Heaven.”

Darkness followed him back into the bunker, taking root into his soul, a destiny finally coming home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sam... you're the King of Hell but.... something’s changed. You're different.” 
> 
> Sam looked up at Cas and flinched at the raw determination on his face. 
> 
> “What’s changed, Sam?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot BELIEVE the positive feedback I got from last chapter like WOW. Thank you so much for the kudos and comments. Soooo now I have ideas and this story is no longer a one-shot. I'm going to try and see if I can make this story fit in between the cracks of S14. No guarantees if it's going to completely follow it, but we'll see.

“Jackson’s dead.” 

Bobby’s jaw slackened and he stumbled a few steps away from Sam. Sam took another swig of his beer and tried to stop his hands from shaking. After his ‘meeting’, he had gone straight to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers to take with him to the library. He had wanted to grab something stronger, but he knew he was going to need a level head for the next several hours. The exhaustion that plagued him right after his and Dean’s trip to Sioux Falls had vanished into an anxious ball of energy. It rattled his bones and he had to fight off shivering an unnatural cold that wouldn’t go away. Sitting in the library with a couple of beers seemed better than trying to relax in his room – in the library, the only company around him were the written histories of those who came before him; in his room, he was closer to those he had all failed.  

Night turned to early 4am morning, and Bobby had just walked in to deliver the news of Jackson’s disappearance.  

“What-What do you mean Jackson’s dead? Elanor just said they saw him chase after something. They couldn’t find him but...but that doesn’t mean that he’s dead-” 

“He chased after a demon who wasn’t supposed to be there.” Sam said, trying to keep his voice level, the anger of that demon’s actions threatening to run over and cause an outburst from him. He took another swig of beer. A couple of beers had turned into more than a few. 

Bobby’s denial transformed into a quiet rage, the realization of what had happened dawned on his face.  

_“What?”_

“Bobby-” 

Bobby started pacing the open room, “How do you know he’s dead, huh? Did one of your demons tell you that?” 

“They’re not  _my_  demons-” 

“ _They’re supposed to be, Sam!_  Wasn’t that the whole point of this? So that this shit wouldn’t happen!?” 

Sam stood up from the table he had been sitting at. Bobby needed to calm down, Bobby needed to  _quiet_  down.  

“Bobby, please lower your voice. I'll tell you everything just...” Sam made a motion with his hands for him to not be so loud. Bobby lowered his voice, but he didn't stop talking. 

“What were demons doing there anyway?  I thought they were supposed to be under your control?”  

Sam flinched at Bobby’s accusatory tone.  

“Bobby, I swear to you, I am doing all that I can to keep them in control...but-” 

“But what Sam?” 

“They’re  _demons_ , Bobby. Some of them are going to disobey.” 

Bobby made an ugly sound of disbelief and shook his head. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his mind elsewhere.  

“Where’s the demon that did this?” 

“Dead. I killed him.” 

Bobby looked back up at Sam, a world of hurt on his face, “You didn’t think anyone else would like that honor?” 

Sam crossed his arms and lowered his head, “I needed to make a show of force.” 

Bobby sighed, the anger from before whipped out of him leaving an exhausted old man. He sat down on one of the tables and grabbed one of Sam’s untouched beers (he had made a lot of trips back to the kitchen). Minutes of silence passed and Sam felt a cold grip tighten on him as Bobby began to show his grief.  

“And Jackson?” Bobby asked, his voice wavering,” Do you know...if his body is even...” 

“He’s outside. His body is on a pyre. It’s prepared for a hunter’s funeral.” 

Bobby looked up at him with surprised incredulity. Sam shrugged and sat down across from him.  

“I had help.”  

Bobby’s grief turned to anger again, “You had a bunch of demons set up Jackson’s pyre?” 

“Bobby-” 

“The same demons that probably did nothing to stop him from being killed!” 

“Bobby please-” 

Bobby got back up on his feet, “Those demons deserve to die, Sam!” 

“I can’t kill them for doing their job, Bobby! The others did what they were supposed to do!” 

“They’re  _demons,_  Sam!” 

“And they’re under my control!” 

“It sure doesn't feel like it!” 

“What's going on?” 

A third voice silenced them both and Sam turns towards the left side of the library, his heart in his throat. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw Cas walk down the steps from the War room. Bobby was fuming, but he stayed silent as Cas got closer to them. Sam tried shaking his tension away, the chill in the air refusing to go away.  

“Jackson’s dead.” Sam said for a second time that early morning.  

Bobby found his voice, “A demon killed him.”  

Cas shook his head, his brow furrowed, “That...that’s terrible news.” 

Bobby muttered under his breath, “Your damn right it is.” He grabbed his beer off the table and walked past Cas. 

“Bobby, where are you going?” Sam called after him, hating the desperate sound in his voice.  

“To go make sure my friend’s body isn’t cursed!” He bit back, his voice echoing from the front of the room, his stomping footsteps faded away.  

Sam threw himself back on his chair, debating of taking his mess of beer bottles to his room. He had lost count of how many he had drank, but for some reason he was still cold stone sober. Cas looked at Bobby’s diminishing figure for a moment and then looked back at Sam, a look on his face that said  _‘Tell me everything, now.’_  

Sam took one last swig of his beer. Lying to an alternate universe version of Bobby was easy. Lying to Cas, an angel who had somehow become his brother, was going to be hard. 

“A demon disobeyed me and killed Jackson. The other demons told me about it. I killed the demon.” Sam let out a dry laugh, “They practically dragged Jackson’s killer to the slaughter.” 

Sam hadn’t been able to look at Cas as he talked. When Cas stayed silent, however, he risked looking up at him. Cas stood at the edge of the table with a frown on his face.  

“Cas?” 

Cas sighed. 

“I’m so sorry you have to deal with them.” he finally said. Sam felt taken aback. 

“Cas...what? This isn’t your fault.” 

Cas sat down at the table across from him, “If I hadn’t tried to talk with Kip, this wouldn’t even be an issue.” 

“Cas, Kip wanted to get to me either way. This all might’ve happened one way or another.” 

Cas sighed again and remained silent. Sam stopped himself from drinking any more. He was starting to worry about the lack of fuzziness in his brain. 

Cas shifted in his seat, “I can understand why Bobby’s upset, but, Sam, you’re still doing the right thing.” 

Sam tried not to laugh. He suddenly wanted to flee to his room. Everyone was probably starting to wake up. He should probably actually get some sleep.  

Cas must have seen the disbelief on Sam’s face for he then said, “You are, Sam. A lot more hunters could be dead right now if you weren’t King. It’s not your fault that some are going to slip through the cracks.” 

Cas was being too nice to him. He couldn’t continue this conversation. Cas should be furious with him. Cas shouldn’t be looking at him as though Cas had failed him and not the other way around. 

“Are you hurt?”  

Sam looked up at Cas in confusion. “What?” 

Cas pointed to his own chin, “You have a little blood...” his voice trailed off.  

Sam rubbed at his bearded chin and felt a jolt of panic as crusted congealed blood rubbed off on to his hand. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. 

“Oh...Oh I... didn’t notice...” Sam said, furiously rubbing the bottom of his face, itching to find a mirror to get it off of him. The temperature in the room dropped significantly and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. 

“Sam?” 

“It-It must have...the demon wasn’t easy to kill.” 

Cas nodded, a look of sympathy on his face. Sam wished it was anger. 

“I wish we could help you with this.” 

Sam shook his head, the blood leaving an invisible stain on his hands even after the crust of it fell onto the table. He stood up from his chair, grabbing all the empty bottles of beer at once. He needed to leave. 

“It’s better this way.” he muttered to Cas, his feet taking him away towards his room, the sounds of voices echoing the hallways, the bunker coming back to life, “I’d rather not drag anyone else down into this...” 

“Sam.” 

Sam stopped in his tracks, unwilling to look back at Cas’s face.  

“I’m with you, no matter what.” 

He stood there for a moment, letting Cas’s words wash over him. Then, he continued on, his beard itching with the remnants of Jackson’s blood.  

\------ 

The funeral was a mostly silent affair. Everyone came outside to pay their respect for one of their own. Sam and Cas had told everyone that Jackson’s body was found out in the woods near the bunker, as if Jackson was trying to make it home, but succumbed to his injuries made by a demon. Bobby had to stifle his anger the entire time they talked. Mary, who got informed by a grieving Bobby, also looked like she was going to throw up. Sam still didn’t have it in him to tell Dean.  

Dean stood near the back of everyone, his feet closest to the bunker’s entrance. Jack stood with him, devastated, but unable to show his grief through numerous coughs that wouldn’t go away. Cas had told him he should sit out the funeral since the cold air would just make his sickness worst, but Jack was adamant. Dean had silently piled on a couple of blankets over Jack’s coat before they walked outside together, as if trying to make up for being a dick to him the day before.  

After Jackson’s body went up in flames, Dean headed straight back into the bunker without offering any words of condolence, Jack not far behind, his cough getting uncontrollable. Sam stood outside until each grieving hunter left, until Jackson’s body was completely gone and turned into ash, the flames licking into the sky in a way that made Sam pray that Jackson’s soul really did go to a peaceful heaven.  

_“No wonder Lucifer brought you back to life.”_  

Sam whipped around, ice gripped at his skin, expecting to see Jackson himself kneeling behind him with a certainty in his eyes that Sam was tainted, was  _wrong-_  

“Sam? Did you hear me?” 

Bobby stood behind him, the anger in his stature gone, a look on his face that looked tired but wary.  

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Sam managed to get out. He rubbed at his beard again, afraid that he somehow missed a spot when he tried washing Jackson’s blood off that morning. The air was silent apart from the crackling flame.

“I’m... I’m saying I’m sorry, Sam.” Bobby croaked, “I know that...well...Elle was talking to me about how...how Jackson wouldn’t listen to any of them when he took off after that demon. She told me that they were actually having a hard time with the super werewolves but...the demons came in and....” Bobby let out a harsh laugh of disbelief, “the demons killed the werewolves.” 

Sam gave him a look of surprise, not only at the fact that Bobby was apologizing, but the fact that the demons had helped out. That definitely hadn’t been reported... 

Or maybe it had and he had been too preoccupied with murdering a man to notice.  

“I don’t know what kool-aid you’re giving them...but it’s not your fault they’re not all drinking it. And I’m sorry for putting all this blame on you. I know you’re doing your best in a shitty situation.”  

Sam knew deep in his heart that this wasn’t  _his_  Bobby, but for a moment, he felt as if his Bobby had just come back to life to tell him that everything was going to be okay. It was suddenly 2010, the apocalypse was on the horizon, and Bobby was in a wheelchair giving him the ability to see past his previous mistakes.  

Except here he was, making those same mistakes again and lying about it.  

He blinked back the wave of emotion and tried not to sound like he was about to vomit, “I’m...I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop this.” 

Bobby patted him on the back, “Just be careful, okay? You still can’t trust them.” 

Sam nodded, “I’d never trust them.” 

As they walked back in together, Sam tried to ignore the lingering smell of fire and ash that clung to his skin, a ghost demanding to be felt.  

\---- 

Despite the fact that they turned the heater on in parts of the bunker to combat the cold from outside, Sam found himself feeling colder than ever. Days passed and no matter how many layers he wore, or how much alcohol he drank, he couldn’t get warm and he couldn’t get buzzed. 

“Sam, are you okay?” 

Sam turned from the microwave, making his 5th mug of hot tea, to see his mother standing there, a look of concern on her face.  

“Oh hey.” Sam uttered out, avoiding her question. 

Mary narrowed her eyes and walked over to him. She put her hand against his forehead, and Sam felt blessed for a moment to feel a temporary flash of warmth.  

“You’re not catching Jack’s cold, are you?” 

“Nah, I’m...” 

Mary interrupted him, “Sam, you’re not fine. You look like hell.” She sighed, “You don’t seem to have a fever though, your skin feels pretty cold.” 

Sam tried to shrug her off, “I’m...I guess I’m pretty tired, that’s all. I’ll make sure to get more sleep tonight.” 

Mary didn’t look quite satisfied with his answer, but she seemed to understand his need to look strong and backed off from him a little. She stood off to the side, silently staring at the kitchen. 

“Mom, did you come in here for something?” 

She was silent for a moment, but then she let out a soft sigh, “Dean won’t come out of his room.” 

_Ah._

“Right....I’ve noticed he’s been...recluse since he’s gotten back.” Sam said, taking his mug of water out of the microwave. He placed a bag of tea leaves in it and faced his mom, eager to have something to focus on that wasn’t the chilling coldness in the air and the fact that he hadn’t actually slept in the past three days.  

Mary looked around the kitchen some more, “I was hoping...I don’t know. Maybe I could make him some food or something.” 

“That would definitely help. I can almost guarantee that.” 

Mary nodded, still looking at the kitchen with a sense of loss. 

Sam tried helping her out, "He always used to talk about your tomato soup.” 

Mary nodded some more, her expression unwavering. A moment of silence passed. 

“Sam?” 

“Hm?” 

“I don’t actually know how to make tomato soup. I always just poured it out of a can...” 

“Oh.” 

Sam drank of sip of tea, the hot liquid heated enough to burn his tongue off. It went down his throat cold as ice water. He continued to drink it, praying for a different outcome.  

“Well...I could show you. I mean, Dean’s really the one who’s the best at cooking, but I know enough to help you.” 

Mary’s face lit up, “You would?” 

The warmth he felt from the look of hope on her face was all he needed.  

“Always.” 

\--- 

Two failed attempts and a mess of a kitchen later, they had enough tomato soup to feed a large group of people...or enough to at least feed Dean.  

“Here you go - take it to him and I’ll clean the kitchen.” 

“Sam,” Mary said, “I’ll help out with the mess-” 

“Nope nope, it’s better served hot and fresh.” 

Mary gave him a look that seemed like she wanted to argue, but adoration was winning out. She grabbed a tray and placed the prepared bowl on it. She stood up with it and said, “You should eat some soup too, I know you didn’t have a chance to eat George’s beef stew earlier.” 

Sam hadn’t eaten in three days. Everything he tried eating came right back up and hunger hadn’t seemed to be an issue. He nodded anyway and went to the utensil drawer to grab a spoon for her to take. 

“Right, I’ll make sure to have some.” 

He grabbed a spoon, but his hand had also grabbed a knife by accident. He placed the spoon on her tray and went to put the knife back in the drawer - 

_“I knew Bobby was lying about that demon being dead.”_  

Instead of the open drawer near Sam’s knife, there was Jackson’s head instead. He was kneeling on the ground looking up at him with disgust. Without even noticing his hand moving, Sam’s knife was suddenly plunged into his heart, blood splattered on his coat, his shirt, his face- 

“Promise me you’ll eat some soup before you start cleaning.”  

Mary's voice cleared the vision and he dropped the knife on the floor, completely missing the open drawer. 

“Sam?” 

He turned around and saw his mom at the foot of the door, tray balanced in her hands.  

“J-Just dropped a knife. I’ll make sure to eat. Don’t worry.” 

Mary gave him one last look of concern before leaving the kitchen.  

In a state of shock, Sam cleaned the kitchen silently. He started placing the soup in a plastic container for later when part of it splattered on him, hitting his face and staining his shirt. He froze at the contact. The soup dripped down his face, a permanent stain that seeped into the skin and tainted his body, his soul... He blinked and saw Jackson’s dead eyes staring at him behind his eyelids.  

He quickly finished putting the soup away and fled the kitchen. 

He sped walked past a few people mulling about, who looked alarmed by his pace, but he didn’t have it in him to reassure them. He passed Dean’s room to see an untouched tray of soup sitting on the floor, all their hard work for nothing. He was nearly to the door of his own room when Cas came across the hallway and walked in his direction. 

“Are you alright, Sam?” 

Sam couldn’t breathe. He felt like he had been caught, all of his sins shown as red liquid dripped down his shirt, his face. 

_“His soul goes to Heaven.”_  

Sam’s own voice was haunting him.  

“I... This isn’t...” 

He grabbed the door knob to his room, ready to leave Cas hanging, when the knob turned cold from his touch and suddenly shattered. Sam stumbled back from the door, the blast leaving shards of brass embedded in his hand. Blood began to pool into his palm. His vision went white for a second and he blinked until he could see. Colors blurred, sounds went silent and for a moment, Sam felt he was transported somewhere else. Cold turned to heat, ice turned to fire, a dark room echoed with the screams of tortured souls, thorns digging into his scalp- 

“...am...Sam...SAM!” 

Cas’s voice shattered the illusion and he felt a strong force push him stumbling backwards into his room. 

He tried focusing his eyes and saw Cas move away from him to close the door behind them. 

“Cas, what the hell-?” 

“People were coming” he said, voice wavering slightly. Blood continued to drip down Sam’s hand. Cas turned towards him and flinched. He let out a shuddering breath, “Damn.” 

Sam blinked, his eyes stinging like he suddenly had allergies. He looked at his hand, realizing he needed to go to a bathroom to fix it up.  

“Cas... I don’t know what just happened...I-I need to clean this up-” 

“You need to stay in here for now.” Cas said, pacing the front of his room. 

“What? No, I’m bleeding, my hand-” 

“Do you not feel it?” Cas asked, his feet stopped, his eyes wide in panic.  

Sam felt the coldness from before come back tenfold, “...Feel what?” 

Cas shook his head and walked passed him, searching his room. He grabbed Sam’s cell phone off his desk and started fiddling with the touchscreen. 

“Hey, Cas, what are you-?” 

The camera feature came on and Cas switched the screen to face himself. He pushed the phone in front of Sam, like a mirror, and Sam felt his heart stop.  

Staring back at him was his face, rough and gaunt, but his eyes....  

His eyes were red.  

He closed them for a moment, trying to bring himself to breathe. When he opened them, the same red eyes continued to look back at him. 

_“What have I done?”_ Sam whispered, hysteria starting to creep in. Cas dropped the phone back on his desk and looked to the side, trying to figure out something in his head. Sam numbly sat down on his bed, the stinging in his eyes increasing. He tried closing them, but every blink brought him back into that dark room - back to Hell.  

“Sam... you're the King of Hell but.... something’s changed. You're different.” 

Sam looked up at Cas and flinched at the raw determination on his face.   

“What’s changed, Sam?” 

“I...I’m not...” 

_“Sam.”_  

Sam broke.  

Tears silently poured out of his red eyes as he finally confessed.  

\----- 

Hours later, silence fell over the bunker as day turned to night. Cas led Sam to the communal bathrooms to finally clean up his hand, the blood congealed into crust. He avoided looking in the mirror as he saw red eyes (Lucifer's eyes) stare back at him.  

“Cas.” 

Cas remained silent, picking out brass from his hand. 

“Cas, say something. Please.” 

Cas sighed and continued to pick out the last few pieces.  

He had been silent throughout Sam’s confession and he remained silent after. When Sam couldn’t get him to talk, he had spent thirty minutes staring up at the ceiling, trying to will away his red eyes.  

Cas pulled on his hand and ran it under hot water. He put two fingers up against Sam’s head and he felt a warmth travel down to his injured hand. The cuts on his hand glowed white and then disappeared. Sam felt grateful that he was still human enough to be healed by an angel’s touch. Cas threw away the shards of brass, washed his hands, and then leaned against the counter to look at Sam.  

“You need to relax.” Cas finally said. 

Sam gave him a look of utmost disbelief. 

_“Relax?”_  

“Unless your eyes follow some other set of rules I don’t know, and they might, you need to control the way your eyes look, and you do that... by being calm.” 

Sam stared at him at disbelief.  

“Cas...” 

“Relax, Sam.” 

“What...why are you helping me? You should...you should hate me. I...." Sam dropped his voice to a whisper, _"I killed him..."_

Cas looked down on the ground, his feet shifted against the ceramic tile. He looked ahead away from Sam. 

“When we first met...I saw you as an abomination.” 

Sam cringed at the memory - finding out angels were real had sent such a surge of hope through him, only for it to get shot down the moment he realized they weren’t on their side. 

“I did nothing to help you then. Then, when I pulled you out of Hell, I messed up and brought you back soulless. You got your soul back with all its damage and then I damaged your head even more-” 

“Cas, you don’t have to - you took that damage away-” 

“-I said yes to Lucifer, bringing him back into your life-” 

“Cas-” 

“-and I couldn’t save your life when we lost you to those monsters in the other world.” 

Sam closed his eyes and felt it - flesh torn apart by monsters only to be sewn back together by a being he had never wanted to be touched by again – a being who had regularly torn his flesh apart over and over and over... 

“Why are you saying this?” 

Cas leaned away from the counter, his feet set, his eyes baring into Sam’s red ones. 

“I’m saying that you've made a mistake, a  _terrible_  mistake that there’s no coming back from, but I’m not going to abandon you because of it. I won’t...” 

Cas sighed, “I won’t fail you this time, Sam.” 

Sam was silent in response, his eyes stinging, his chest hollow. He swallowed down his emotions and said, “What if I make that mistake again?” 

“You won’t.” 

Sam looked at Cas with desperation.  

“How do you know-?” 

“Because I’ll be there to make sure you won’t. It's like I said," Cas put a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder, "I'm with you, no matter what."

Something in Cas’s words lifted the coldness out of the air. The chill wasn’t gone, but it had become bearable, a weight lifted off of straining shoulders. The stinging in his eyes faded away. 

“Ah, there we go.” 

Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion at Cas’s words. He nodded towards the mirror. Sam looked at himself and nearly cried out of relief as he saw the whites of his eyes return, the irises of eyes turned grey.  

He let out a choked-up laugh, “God, I need a shave.” 

Cas chuckled with him. 

\---- 

“You and Dean should just go on a hunt. Like old times. Get some fresh air.” 

“Yeah...yeah you’re right, Cas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Mint Condition episode was so cute. However, the part where Sam got spooked by that Thundercat toy had my inner voice screaming - "IS THIS YOUR KING?"


End file.
